


With Every Sun Rise

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, i never understand how people can have like 800 million tags like wtf how, i write smut because sinning is fun, there's rimjobs and handcuffs want more do you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moon will never compare to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Every Sun Rise

He liked the sunrise, the way everything was bathed in red and gold. And the sunset, with its purple and blues. And the moon, _oh god the moon_ , it was the single thing in the sky that compared to him.

The moon. He had always loved the moon. When he was young, it had always seemed so distant. But suddenly he was twenty four and the time to get there didn’t seem quite so forever. 

The last time he look at the moon, last time he was happy and the full moon was just so _bright_ , he hadn’t been alone. But even though he knew the world was far smaller than he though, it was still far too large. 

He missed Harry.

But Harry would be home soon, _can he even make it back?_ , and he would joke and say that Eggsy would kill Mr. Pickles.

Even Eggsy couldn’t fuck up that spectacularly, fuck up enough to kill a stuffed dog.

Soon, Harry would come home and Roxy wouldn’t have to listen to him waffle on about _how freaking soft his hands are_ and the moon, _the fucking moon_ , would be brighter than the New York skyline.

Things followed a certain order every time Harry returned from a solo mission. 

_One-_ Harry would run through the front door, straight to the bathroom to check if Mr. Pickles was in _fact_ still fine. Safe and whole, on his perch, like Eggsy would ever dare hurt Harry's stuffed pet.

 _Two-_ Harry would swoop up JB and spin him around the house. As he watched from the couch, Eggsy would laugh, _if you fucking drop my dog!_

And finally, _three-_ with JB back in his dog bed, Harry would hug Eggsy. They would hug for hours, whispered words and near silent _I love you_ ’s and soft shoulder kisses. Eventually, one of them would give up, _Eggsy, always_ , and whisper something cheeky, before running off to the bedroom. Shedding clothes and tripping over Eggsy’s shirt, Harry would follow after, follow down the hall, and fall into bed.

“I missed you, so fucking much.”

And Harry would laugh, laugh softly, before saying some cheeky one liner about how, _at least your right hand wasn’t lonely_. And then Eggsy would bite his shoulder and everything would be fine as the final pieces of clothing slipped off and they fell into easy kissing. Bare skin and cold hands, quiet little _oh, oh, oh_ ’s and _ahh, Harry_ ’s would rebound around the room. 

Harry would climb on top of Eggsy, sit on his lap and grip his chin, little nips and slight presses and everything would be _oh so_ warm. Eggsy would sigh into his mouth, tongues and teeth flashing.

Eventually Harry would slip off and grab the lube, dripping it on his fingers before smirking, eyes twinkling, at Eggsy.

Eggsy could never take Harry seriously during sex, least of all when he would say shit puns with two fingers up Eggsy’s ass. But Eggsy loved him, _loved him so fucking much_ , puns and fingering and handcuffs and all.

But then again, Eggsy had always loved handcuffs.

So with his head between Eggsy’s legs, Harry would lick and bite and suck for hours, making him come until he cried. Eggsy would strain against the cuffs, straining to reach Harry’s head. He would moan and whimper for hours, his voiced wreaked as his muscled twitched under Harry’s skilled mouth.

And in the morning, if Eggsy’s ass wasn’t a complete mess and he wasn’t covered in his own cum, then maybe, _hopefully_ , he would blow Harry before he was fucked into next week. 

And every time they were home, they were happy.


End file.
